A Potent Mix of Irritation and Jealousy
by Just A Penniless Writer
Summary: House will always be House. Not even three annoying British kids trying to save the world can change that. House & Harry Potter crossover. Post HBP, not DH compliant.


**A Potent Mix of Irritation and Jealousy**  
_Just A Penniless Writer_

_**Standard Disclaimer Applies x2  
Author's Plea:**_ Written for tripperfunster for the 2007 Crossover Fest on CrossoverHP at LJ. Post HBP, Pre DH. For House, before the Houselings fly away. All of the good ideas courtesy of The Slasher. All of the bad ideas entirely mine. Enjoy if you can.

* * *

Lunch with Wilson was always entertaining, especially on days when House had nothing better to do than think of creative new ways of making his friend feel uncomfortable. It took only ten minutes this time --not a record but still something to feel mildly proud of. 

"Go. Now that you have your team of highly specialized doctors, at least put them to use as distractions."

It was a line that always made House feel like perhaps Wilson was jealous. After all, though Wilson was by far more likable in the hospital, he didn't have his own minions to do his bidding.

It was with this thought in mind that House entered his office to find not the minions he expected but a trio of dirty, poorly dressed teenagers. One of them looked as if he might add some color to the floor at any moment, so he steered especially clear of him.

All three were holding onto a particularly foul tube sock.

He knew automatically that this wasn't something that he was going to like. The boy's illness looked common and his companions looked annoying. Certainly not something he was interested in dealing with.

"Sir! Sir! Harry is ill! I don't know what happened! One minute we were looking for Rowena Ravenclaw's eagle feather quill that Voldemort turned into a horcrux, and then Harry fell over and started vomiting, and goodness, he just wouldn't stop! We couldn't go back because the Order would _never_ let us leave like that again, which might be for the best but not when we're _so_ close, and we couldn't go to St. Mungo's because they'd let the Order know or they'd let the Death Eaters know, or --dear Merlin, no!-- the Death Eaters might _already be there_, and we simply can't fight back right now! So I told the Portkey to take us to someone who could help, and it brought us here, wherever _here_ is, so here we are! Please, he needs help!" the girl rambled without taking a breath. She had the tone of someone who had spent entirely too many hours telling others exactly what they should do.

What little patience he had vanished in an instant.

"I gave to the Charity for Insane Teenagers last week," he said as he herded them out of the office.

"But--"

"Psych ward is on the fifth floor, free clinic is on the first." He paused almost thoughtfully. "Dr. Wilson is a sap; try him."

He shut the door very solidly and walked back to his desk without listening to the protests coming from the other side of the glass. When he noticed they were actually pouting --actually, only the girl was pouting. The red-head was gaping unseemly while the sick one simply hung on-- he went to the window and shut the blinds.

Nothing to it, really. Now all he had to do was make sure Cuddy didn't find him before it was time to leave and all would be right with the world.

* * *

Wilson couldn't have called his day great, but it certainly hadn't been terrible. Of course, House had a way of changing that. In fact, it seemed to be a highly honed skill. 

_Don't know why I'm even bothering to give this back_, he thought as he gripped the Game Boy.

It had been left at the lunch table, hidden under what had been the cover for something that might have been meatloaf. It had taken Wilson a good five minutes before deciding it was best to return it promptly. A bored House was a troublesome House, after all.

Of course, he was expecting House to cause some trouble regardless, since he was already obviously bored. He was expecting a whole lot of things, actually.

What he wasn't expecting was three dirty, poorly dressed teenagers pouting outside House's shuttered window. It took a moment before they seemed to come out of whatever shock they were in, but when they did he immediately felt the press of doom.

"Please! The other man said we were insane, but we're just lost and tired, and we don't know what's wrong with Harry, but he just isn't getting better. He needs help!" pleaded the girl as she gripped his coat with dirty fingers. He thought he saw a tube sock sticking out of her pocket but decided that was just plain too silly to be true.

Somehow, he knew this wasn't going to be a simple fix. Somehow, he knew this was going to add quite a few hours onto his already busy day. Still, it wasn't in his nature to push this on to someone else. That was House's job, not his, and far be it for him to usurp his power.

"Okay," he sighed. "Come with me to the clinic downstairs. We'll get you signed in."

* * *

Two days later, the teenagers were slightly less dirty and more than slightly more annoying. House did his best to avoid them. 

They simply weren't as mysterious or interesting as the staff made them seem. The sick one had only been plagued by the stomach flu, compounded by exhaustion and poor nutrition. Though they had no explanation for who they were and refused to say where they lived, he'd known enough teenagers to spot trouble when he saw it. These were not the type of kids with comfortable houses and suburban parents. No, this breed of child grew up through experience and hardship and had been looking after their own lives for long enough to be bothersome.

"Did you hear about Wilson and the British kids?"

However, keeping out of sight of the teens did little use when it came to his own staff. Chase, always the gossip hound, had quickly caught on to exactly how much the kids irritated him. This ability to cause irritation without actually actively _doing_ anything was one of the reasons House kept him on staff, but this was taking it a bit too far. Unfortunately, the others could be just as bad.

"What about them?" Foreman asked with only the mildest interest.

"He's paying for the two of them to stay at a hotel while the other one recovers."

"How sweet," Cameron stated with a pointed look in House's direction. Somehow the story of him leaving them at his office door had been circulated round the staff. There hadn't been any witnesses besides Wilson, who was far too polite to actually spread such truth, so he was only left with the idea that the kids themselves had spilled. It only made him dislike them all the more.

"Of course, no one knows who they are, but they seem nice enough. The girl, Hermione, talked to me yesterday at lunch. Corrected me, actually."

"That's easy enough to do," House interrupted.

Chase ignored him in favor of continuing his stale gossip.

"She's a smart girl. The red-head is a bit dense, but I hear from the nurses that he's a wicked chess player."

"The sick one should be cleared tomorrow morning," Cameron added with a smile. It made him sick.

He wondered if Wilson was doing anything he could interrupt and decided chances were good.

"I'm going to find a hooker or something else to do. Have fun."

Fifteen minutes later, he was back in his office upon discovering Cuddy was on the warpath. If there was one thing he was not in the mood to deal with --and, as usual, there were more than several including but not limited to idiots and sick people-- it was Cuddy with PMS. He felt safer back in the shelter of his office where at least there were others to use as human shields.

Just like the day before, he approached his office to find strangers invading the space. Instead of three bedraggled teens, he found himself facing three strange men wearing what appeared to be fancy bathrobes.

They were also all holding onto a tin can. Without his consent, his eyebrow quirked.

"Muggles…" the blond said with derision, obviously ignoring him. "They just _had_ to be with _Muggles_."

"I admit it's strange--" the worn-out and scarred one started before being interrupted by a particularly angry and greasy man in black.

"Gentleman," he grated in a smooth and more than slightly greasy tone. He made the word sound like an insult, and House found himself almost impressed. "Our efforts are far more useful dealing with the current situation. Lupin, if you would?"

"Of course," the worn-out one said before he turned his attention to House still standing in the doorway. "I was hoping perhaps you could help us. We were informed our… charges were being housed here."

"Charges…" House said slowly, testing the word for fit.

"Yes, a bespectacled boy with black hair and a scar on his forehead, a girl with particularly… buoyant hair, and a tall red-head."

"Ah. Yes. Room 113. Be careful the nurses don't stop you from entering; the kids seem to have made a few friends."

The greasy one sneered then, as it this was only to be expected, before turning and leaving the office in a flourish of fancy black bathrobe. The other two followed, but not before the worn-out one flashed him a thankful grin. House couldn't help but be glad they were leaving.

However, his interest had been unfortunately piqued. Once they were suitably down the hall and obviously entrenched in their own conversation, House set out to follow them.

* * *

"This way." 

"Obviously," Snape sneered.

"I do hope this will be finished quickly. I fear I shall never get the smell of this place out of my robes," Lucius said with a delicate sniff.

"Who are you to complain?" Lupin said lightly. "Certainly better than Headquarters. Certainly better than Azkaban."

Lucius seemed to take offense but otherwise said nothing.

"I suppose I should do the talking," Lupin continued undaunted. "Even if he is sick, Harry will undoubtedly hex you both upon sight."

"I certainly don't expect anything remotely intelligent from the idiot boy," Snape stated dourly.

"I would hardly call him foolish for believing you both to still be the enemy," Lupin said with a sigh. "I can hardly believe the change myself."

"You foolish Gryffindors never could manage to see the benefits of espionage," Snape sneered.

"Oh, I wouldn't quite say that," Lupin started with a slight grin. "Miss Granger is becoming quite adept at obtaining coveted information."

"The Muggle-born? I am almost impressed," Lucius said while flipping his hair over his shoulder. "Of course, one simply has to expect such deceit from someone of such pitiful heritage."

"You are hardly one to be speaking ill of deceit," Lupin said as the group approached the door to room 113. "And here we are. Gentlemen, if you would please wait here while I explain the situation?"

"Just get on with it, Lupin," Snape sneered. Lupin took it in stride and just grinned a bit before entering the room. Snape and Lucius settled in at either side of the door to wait, noticing the pointed looks they were getting from general passers-by as well as the unshaven man they had originally questioned.

The man seemed to have multiplied. Rather, he had gained a following of three younger Muggles, each wearing a matching white overcoat.

After a long ten minutes of talented staring, the unshaven man approached slowly while chewing almost thoughtfully on something that looked to be a slender, rancid piece of meat. Its packaging proclaimed to be a Slim Jim. It was all Lucius could do not to cringe.

"If the kids are your charges, you would be… supervisors? Teachers? Parole Officers?"

"Professors," Snape responded dourly.

"Yeah. Sure. Their parents?"

"Unavoidably detained," Lucius responded slickly. The man, and his approaching colleagues, didn't seem too terribly impressed with his tone.

When it became clear that the spectators were not going to leave them be, Lucius and Snape shared a knowing look before knocking a set pattern on the patient room door. A few moments later, an answering knock alerted them that it was okay for them to enter.

With a sneer and smirk, the two disappeared inside the room. They had no doubt the Ministry would disapprove of their plan should they learn of it. Fortunately, the Ministry had more to deal with than a few confused Muggle healers.

* * *

A few loud, unintelligible words and a curious _pop!_ were all that House could hear from his spot outside the patient room. He wanted to just open the door and demand an explanation, but that was exactly what Cameron was saying and far be it from him to be unoriginal. 

Luckily, he was saved by the timely appearance of Wilson.

"Did he steal your Game Boy, or are you just jealous?" the oncologist said with a straight face.

"Your patient has some very interesting guests."

"Guests?"

With a curious look, Wilson opened the patient room door, only to stop in the doorway. When House squeezed in beside him, effectively pushing him into the door, he saw the last thing he expected.

The room was empty except for a piece of paper on the crumpled sheets and a rip in the screen of a window he was _sure_ wasn't supposed to open. While he examined the apparent escape route, finding nothing to suggest that it previously hadn't been a fully functioning window, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman entered the room in similar states of disbelief.

"_Thank you for the help. You may very well have saved the world. Hermione._" Wilson read from the note. He looked up with confusion and more than mild disbelief.

That same look seemed to be shared by all with the exception of Chase. Mixed with the confusion was something that resembled petulance.

"What's wrong with you?" Foreman asked pointedly.

Despite all the confusion, House couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"He's just upset the one guy had better hair than him."

* * *


End file.
